After spending most of the summer visiting Texas I finally met a man named Tex. He's even a famous Tex. His name is Tex Henson and he's now well into his 80's.

Tex went to California as a young man and began working for Walt Disney just after World War II as an animator. He went on to have an extensive career as a cartoon story teller for us and our children during most of the next 50 years. He created the lovable chimpmunk characters "Chip and Dale". Later, he worked for other producers of animated features and commercials and for eight years ran the animation studio in Mexico that produced the popular "Rocky and Bullwinkle Show" in the 60's and 70's.

Today Tex has retired and has returned to his boyhood home in Terrell, Texas. I drove out to visit him one day at the Terrell Senior Center where he spends most of his time now. When I pulled up to the front door I could see a mustachioed gentleman peering out the front window. He was waiting for me and obviously wasn't happy that I was ten minutes late.

He wore his moustache close-trimmed and styled in the manner of Walt Disney himself. He subsequently assured me that was no accident though he couldn't bring himself to say "Walt". He remained "Mr. Disney" for the balance of the afternoon.

Tex propelled me through the dayroom toward what I took to be his corner. There were perhaps 15 or 20 other seniors seated at tables scattered around the room. I had the definite feeling everyone knew why I was there. Most fairly beamed at Tex as we passed and cast a glance of assessment in my direction. One elderly lady whispered to her companion (a bit too loudly for me not to hear) that I "looked like" a writer. So apparently Tex had let it be known he was to be interviewed.

Much to his consternation some visitors were sitting at his corner table already. He hadn't figured on strangers coming in who didn't respect the prevailing pecking order of available seating.

I suggested we sit elsewhere because I got the sense that he was about to shoo them away. He reluctantly agreed.

As soon as we sat down I was glad I'd come. Not because I felt I was going to get a great story but because I saw a man starved for one more taste of limelight; a man who had spent his entire lifetime in his special corner of show business who now had been denied access to his own corner of the dayroom at the Terrell Senior Center.

It was obvious that he was the "big man on campus" there abouts. I could tell the residence were proud of their celebrity. As Tex launched into each new tale, the furtive glances told me they were vicariously enjoying the attention he was getting.

Tex's memory of his work at Disney was intriguing but imperfect. His anectodes were enthusiastically told but key elements were vague and details often escaped his memory. Hopes of a magazine style feature dimmed with each incomplete thought and uncertain memory. But Lord he did love telling them to me.

Some of the ladies in the room started looking at Tex a bit differently than they had. He confided in me that some of them didn't believe he had been "famous" in his younger days and while he stopped short of saying "maybe this will show them", the implication was clear.

Soon I realized there was no real story to be had here, at least not the one I had come to write. But there was something else. Thre was a roomful of friends who came each morning of the world to the TSC for breakfast and stayed with their friends through lunch before returning to their respective homes, and Tex Henson was their Lizard King.

I excused myself and went out to my car which was parked directly in front. I made a great display of extracting my Morantz tape recorder from the trunk and brought it back inside. I use my handheld recorder these days for most interviews but the Morantz was better suited to my purpose. It was large and it had dials to turn and a proper microphone. I took longer than necessary to adjust the sound levels and setup the mic stand in front of Tex. His joy was palpable.

For the next two hours I listened to Tex talk into the microphone. Sometimes the tape was running, sometimes it wasn't.

Every once in awhile I'd glance at the others. I was reminded of scenes from Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds". Each time I looked up Tex's friends, faithful and doubters alike, had moved to closer tables. Soon virtually all of them were sitting close enough to hear Tex tell me the story of his life, disjointed though it may have been.

At the end of the session I stood and thanked Tex. God love him, he managed to sound magnaminous for taking the time to talk to me.

For obvious reasons I won't be showing Tex this particular column. But if any of you remember Chip and Dale or Rocky and Bullwinkle, I'm sure Tex would be thrilled to thumbtack your postcards up in the Terrell Senior Center.

If you'd like do that send me an E and I'll forward a mailing address to you. Everybody ought to enjoy a little limelight in this life, maybe even a supplemental dose near the end of it.